The Forgotten Princess
by EverlinFreewood
Summary: The story of a not-so-young elf from Fangorn who's putting her life on the line for love,friendship,and hope. OCXLegolas
1. The Call

{Character Bio:

Name: Everlin Adelaide Freewood

Age- Unknown, but it can be presumed that she is older than Legolas Greenleaf, who was approx. 200 at the time of The War of the Ring). So for stories sake, we'll put her at about approx. 220.

Appereance: 5'8, with gold and red laced brown hair that reaches to her waist and eyes the color of oak leaves.

Home: Mirkwood- Abandoned in Fangorn at a young age

Family: Raised by Treebeard, and it is rumored that in her youth was cared for by the last of the Ent Wives.- Destroyed in The War of the Last Alliance.

On with the show!}

Chapter 1- The Call

It's barely dawn. Lavender mist crowns Isengard and the tallest trees of Fangorn. The sound of creaking, cracking, and conversation fill the air above a large glen bordering the forest. Shadows flicker onto the bark of soliatary trees. In the grassy knoll stands a young woman, of elvish descent, a tawny brunette blessed with brilliant green eyes, the result of a Noldor and Sindar Edhel union. Not that any one knew. Beside her, Treebeard, an Ent of unrivaled age and wisdom. While we have been observing, the elf has adjusted her packings, secured sword to waist, and mounted a white steed. Shadowfax. As the mist dissipates, anxiety rushed to fill its place.

"It isn't wise..to act so rashly, my dear." Treebeard exihibits the beginning of a frown. The elf cuts her eyes up at the Ent from the tooling of her bracers and smiles effervescently.

"This isn't rash action. Elrond made it clear my presence is necessary in Rivendale. Unless of course, you feel you could make a quicker job of it." The smile wanes, her grip tightens on Shadowfax's reins.

"And at this rate, you might." Venom is evident on the comparitively young woman's tongue, but the sadness in her eyes disregards it.

"Of course not...You must go. Fangorn will miss its maiden.." Grief rings like crystal through her ears as Treebeard murmurs and creaks his goodbyes. She never did like goodbyes.

"I'll return soon as is feasible." She took a shot at a short, quick farewell.

"Mind your...temper...and...remain...on...guard...my dear."

"Haven't I always?" The elf continued in a murmur, "You are not the only one wary of alliances."

"Very... well. Everlin...Adelaide...Freewood...of Fangorn...make all...haste...to Rivendale." The eldest found himself caught up in a pillar of disturbed gnats and the sound of hooves on fresh spring grass as Everlin Freewood started her journey to the Elvin mecca of Rivendale, to what seemed like a world away. A long journey to muse the possible outcomes of her journey.

~To Be Continued~


	2. Just In Time For Supper

The journey took three days. A day to pass through Western Rohan. A day to Weathertop. A day to Rivendell. Most of the third being spent on grooming Shadowfax and sending him back to Fangorn.

When Everlin arrived at the gates of Rivendell, ornate and delicate, the sky was ablaze with deep pinks and oranges that lit the Elvin architechture in becoming hues. As she made her way up the streets, spiraling upwards toward Elrond's house, Everlin found her presence over shadowed by other council members' arrival. 'No matter, it's only proper for a forgetton one to remain forgotten' She thought to herself as she cut her eyes around a corner and descended down into a light corridor.

A hidden entrance. She remembered it from trips in her youth. Trips spent next to a man who cared deeply for her, the only one who ever fought to keep her in Mirkwood. 'How did good memories become posion to my soul?' At the end of the tunnel stood a heavy, dusty, wooden door. It had been long forgotten, and the once brilliant jewels placed carefully in its notches were tarnished and cloudy. Towards the left side, if one looked closely, was a thin slit. Everlin drew her blade and slide the sharp edges into the door.

"Carch" .

The glow of candles and the bustling of skirts and voices welcomed Everlin into the hall of Elrond. While she stepped up and holstered her blade the door slide shut and melted back into the wall as if covered by an elvish cloak. Everlin ran her fingers against the hilt of her blade and found at the end of her sight line was a pair of worn boots. A voice rang out in her head,'Adelaide, you're late'. Skeptical eyes peered through strands of hair to catch a glimpse of the speaker.

"On the contrary, Aragorn." Everlin smiled and starightened herself, "I'm just in time for supper." Aragorn responded with a light chuckle as he extended his arms.

"It has been too long, dear lady of the woods." Everlin only smirked in reply and the two embraced. Their steady stream of chatter resonated off the walls and followed them to the dining hall. Everlin couldn't help but smile at all the happy Hobbits, Dwarves, Elves, and Men seated at the grand table. Aragorn had already informed her that tomorrow would be no such celebration and that she ought to take the good moments while they last. So she did. She soaked in the scene, enjoyed the fine meal, the white liqour, and a swig of Dwarven beer before she was pulled away from the table and into the fray of people. Aragorn's rough hand cinched her waist in an effort to safely guide Everlin through the crowd. Naturally, she was lost from him in less than a minute.

"Aragorn?" She called out to no avail. A brief glance around the perimeter of the hall served her no good either. The only thing she had noticed was a voice somewhere below her.

"Miss? Miss!" The voice was talking to her, but where in the world was its owner?

"Miss! Down here! Are you alright?" Everlin looked down and discovered a curly headed Hobbit staring up at her.

"Oh! My apologies, I didn't see you at first!" She smiled and shook his hand.

"No worry, my name is Peregrin Took, but you can call me Pippin!"

"Everlin Freewood, it's a pleasure."

"Now you do appear to be in need of some help, are you looking for someone? Oh I bet I know who!" Pippin laughed and took Everlin's hand, dragging her a few feet to a small group of elves. Pippin beamed up at her.

"Gentlemen!" He shouted while clapping his hands, "Does this fair elf belong to any of you?" Pippin didn't wait for an answer, he merely pushed Everlin into the circle. She was startled, but moved with grace to face the eldest of the elf men.

"Elrond, how lovely to see you." She mused and held out her hand like she had been instructed by Aragorn. Elrond nodded, kissed her hand, and addressed the two other men, a fair skinned blonde her age, and a much younger Silvan.

"This is Everlin Adelaide Freewood of...Fangorn." Elrond moved away from the group and the young Silvan followed. 'Must be an apprentice' Everlin concluded. His departure left Everlin and the blonde elf standing together in the midst of some Hobbit-inspired drinking game. Everlin moved towards him and their green eyes met.

"Legolas Greenleaf." The elf stated as he raised Everlin's hand to his lips. She cocked an eyebrow, but smiled.

"Prince of Mirkwood, the pleasure is all mine."

"Ah, but you, you're a Princess aren't you?" Legolas nudged her and laughed. Everlin laughed with him.

"By virtue of only female in residency of Fangorn, I suppose you're correct!"

"A Princess none the less!" He asserted. Everlin felt a lightness overcome her as he laughed and found herself in great spirits when Aragorn brushed her shoulder.

"It's taken forever to find you Adelaide," concern was evident in his voice, "but I see you've been in good company." The two men shook hands, greeting each other by name.

"Legolas."

"Aragorn."

Everlin looked to her Ranger company for some sort of explanation, but none was provided.

"Have you and Everlin known each other long?" Legolas probed, moving the conversation further. Everlin fidgeted, Aragorn spoke for them both.

"We met many years ago, I was traveling through Rivendell, and she was visiting from Mirkwood. We've served as each others companions and guides on many occasions since." He briefly explained.

"From Mirkwood you say?" Everlin looked down at her bracers, avoiding Legolass' question.

"I lived there in my youth." She mumbled and cut her eyes up at Aragorn, hating him for prompting the Prince of Mirkwood.

"Which family are you of? I know almost all, but none by the name of Freewood." Aragorn could since his dear friends' emotion at he mention of family, grasped her hand, and spoke for her again.

"She was raised until the age of 20 by a prominent man then she was abandoned in Fangorn for fear of a blemish on his reputation. I'm frankly surprised you've never heard of her." Everlin had looked up, straightened up, and focused her beautiful features on Legolas. He returned the gaze, but with a quizzical air.

"Why is that?"

"Because that man was your father, the King of Mirkwood." Everlin glowered and the words dripped venom. "I was orphaned twice. Once because of you, Legolas." Her eyes lightened and the soft, knowing voice returned. "But I hold no grudge, those events have long since past."

The Prince stood shell-shocked.

"...I never knew. I'm sorry for what he did to you. I do not know if I would have been so forgivingof me." The troubled elf walked off, and out into the open air.

Everlin sighed and gripped Aragorn's arm. She had always been volatile for an elf, but sometimes the emotions caused her more trouble than they were worth.

"Do you know where I may rest?" She asked. Aragorn led her out of the hall and down several corridors to a softly lit room with a large bed and bath.

"Try and sleep my dearest friend," He spoke softly, "tomorrow is the council and I fear it may be a test of our spirits."


	3. Save One

EVERLIN:

The sun was just breaking the horizon as I opened my eyes. Wide windows welcome the new day, and the gauzy material flowing across their panes indicate my failure to close them the night before. Never mind that.

I swing my feet from the soft linens to meet cold stone floors and make my way to the bath. A house maid has already filled the large marble basin with luke-warm water and mixed in a healthy amount of lavender and honey.'No sense in letting this go to waste" I convince myself as tired muscles and fair golden skin disappear into the waters. A quick dip is all I can afford right now though.

Within the half hour I'm dressed in buttery soft leggings the color of fresh pine needles, my well-loved riding boots, and a dove gray tunic drenched in patterns of leaves and ever joining circles. I've set about braiding my hair, when there's a knock on the door.

ARAGORN:

I can't help worrying about Everlin, know as Adelaide to me since our first meeting, for she closed her mind to me last night. A trip to her chambers should ease my mind,I think to myself, and to make certain she arrives to the council on time. I rapt softly on the bleached wood door.

"Yes?" I can tell that her strength has returned to her through the lilt of her reply.

"Adelaide, It's Aragorn."

"Then for Valor's sake open the door!" Her tone is full of mirth and warmth. Upon entering the room I am greeted by the sight of Adelaide, an elf woman in prime form full of light and life, finishing two thin archer's braids, one on either side of her temple. She catches my gaze. She speaks.

"Are you at ease? Your mind wanders." Her tone is concerned. Receiving no immediate reply, she moves across the room to join me at the door.

"Come in Aragorn, speak with me."

EVERLIN:

Something is disturbing my friend's mind. His presence is silent and unobtrusive as he waits for me to twist the ends of my braids into place. I catch his gaze and wait. Still, he says nothing.

"Are you at ease? Your mind wanders." This is not the Ranger I know. He still lurks in the doorway.

"Come in Aragorn, speak with me." I coax him away from the door and slide the iron latch into place. His hand on my elbow forces me to face him.

"You closed your mind to me last night, Everlin." His eyebrows are furrowed together above searching eyes.

"Mellon, you must understand, last night was difficult for me. Have you not, in moments of weakness, closed me from your mind?" I question him and hope that he sees the sense in my words. Thankfully, he pulls me into an embrace, questioning my motives no further.

"Goheno nin, mellon. " He whispers in my ear. I pull away and smile at him.

"There is nothing of ill will between us, not now, not ever." He is visibly relieved at my words. A glance out the window signals the morning is late and we best be on our way to the council.

"Shall we go?" He asks and offers his arm to me. There have been similar moments between us before and, as always, I take his arm.

ARAGORN:

I am amazed at Adelaide's capabilities. To so easily forgive and so readily love is truly a gift. One I cherish for it makes her a good companion and brave warrior.

I watch her face change and ease as we make our way through familiar corridors and rooms. She laughs and chatters on about her childhood visits to Rivendell and how we first came to meet.

It was a warm fall day when I first laid eyes on her, standing next to the fair king of Mirkwood and Elrond, she seemed confused and lost. She was in her mid 100's then, I in my late teens. She noticed my eyes following her from above and excused herself from the conversation at hand to meet me at the balcony. Though Arwen will forever hold my heart, I admit the sight of the golden skinned, brunette elf of Fangorn made my mortal heart skip a beat. Upon introduction we found much in common. Our love of new places, people, language, and the dear sound of laughter. As it would turn out she was already an experienced warrior having fought in the first age wars. Later we would serve in the first war of the Ring side by side, a gallant sight to behold.

Adelaide's voice rings through my head. I always leave my mind open to my dear friend's words and the expression on her elegant face is determined as we enter the meeting.

EVERLIN:

My eyes have never seen such a complete representation of Middle Earth. 22 Elves (including myself); A Wizard; 2 Hobbits; A Dunedian; A few men; and my quick eye tells me several children behind the columns. The corners of my lips curve upward involuntarily at the sight of them. But is fades as my eyes scan from one council member to another, Legolas, Elrond, Gandalf, and Bilbo. Excluding the first, all acquaintances of the first war. My light footsteps echo Aragorn's less than careful footsteps, a sign he's trying to appear confident. We seat ourselves close, as children in cahoots may.

'What are you smiling at?' Aragorn's voice is strange in my head after so much time apart. His use of my first given name throws me as well.

'Not a thing, not a thin in the world.' I glance at him reassuringly as Elrond signals to begin.

"Strangers from distant lands ... friends of old. You have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-earth stands upon the brink of can escape it. You will unite...or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate...this one doom..." It's hard for many to meet the elder elf's eyes, so full of gloom and dark knowledge, I can see the Hobbits look to each other and Gandalf for support. The dwarves rely on their axes to shield them. My gaze does not falter for a moment. Grey eyes meet green before his eye wanders to be met by Aragorn's, Legolas's, Boromir's, and finally Gandalf's eyes. How strange that the only female here possesses more guts bravery than many of the men.

"Bring forth the ring, Frodo." My attention is back center stage, to a blue-eyed Hobbit, placing a gold band on the marble pedestal Elrond stands behind. Surely my eyes are deceiving me? It cannot be..

"So it is true!" A man from Gondor I believe, power-thirsty.

"Sauron's Ring! The ring of power!" Legolas now. I reach for the ranger's hand. Surely not, surely this is not true. Treebeard what have you sent me to? This is the doom of all Middle Earth, right here before me. Aragorn grasps my out-stretched for a moment and places it back on my lap. We mirror each other's curiosity and shock. The channel between our minds becomes so flooded I have need to block him from mine own thoughts.

Around us, disarray and terror has reared into the air and intoxicated the minds of the council members. Breaking through the heady air is a strong voice. It is the Gondorian man.

"It is a gift...a gift to the foes of Mordor! Why not use this Ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, held the forces of Mordor at bay...by the blood of our people are your lands kept safe. Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy...let us use it against him!" The warrior in me understands his passion, his logic, but my experience and time and Fangorn tell me this man is juvenile and rash. He seems abashed as his fiery eyes light upon me, it seems he did not notice me enter. All I can provide him is a nod of the head as I hear Aragorn begin to speak.

"You cannot wield it. None of us one ring answers to Sauron alone...it has no other master." He has always been a wonderful orator, but as the males around me grow more unruly he is put to the test. Legolas reveals his heritage to the group, as the rightful king of Gondor. Something I had kept hidden from those I encountered with the ranger. The dwarf attempts to destroy the ancient artifact with his ax to no avail, Gimli son of Gloin I do believe was his name.

The argument has turned around me. Someone must take the ring back to Mt. Doom. For it can only be destroyed by the fires it was forged by. Dwarves are adamant no elf touch the cursed thing. Elves are adamant no dwarf touch it either. Man is still arguing their case to use it against Mordor. To my right, Gandalf stands and Frodo, I have learned his name through Aragorn's mind, steps forward.

"I will take it...I will take it...I will take the Ring to Mordor." The air has grown still, astonished faces surround me. I stand, wanting to project this young one from the Ring. I have seen it destroy much stronger beings. Frodo is expressing his concern, he does not know the way. Gandalf grasps his shoulder.

"I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear." I am glad of the wise gray wizard's words for now the Hobbit will not be so alone. Still the desire pulls at me to protect him form the malice of Sauron.

"If, by my life or death, I can protect you, I will...you have my sword." Aragorn has left my side to join the wizard and Hobbit. He nods at me.

'Do you understand?'His voice pervades my mind.

'I always do.' I return his gesture.

I see Gimli and Legolas step forward. Promising their bow and ax respectively. Boromir is next to join.

"If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done." He says with great pride, if not in a somber tone. I catch myself staring at the greatest warriors in all of Middle Earth, save one. My heat pounds in my chest and I can feel Aragorn's presence in my mind as my supple riding boots scuff the floor, making their way to the pedestal. I lift my head as I reach it, the setting sun glinting off the golden strands laced through my hair and the wind blowing it all towards the river. My lips feel as if they are about to crack.

"Frodo, it would be mine, and Fangorn's ,greatest honor to protect you on your journey to save us all." My voice is clear as the water rushing below us, my head held high, my stance that of a well trained soldier. The young Hobbit looks up at me, awestruck. Gimli is the only one to protest.

"Now what kind of men are we, lettin' a las join the best these realms have to offer?" He is gruff and the glances he imparts on me are scornful. I raise an eyebrow as murmurs from Boromir also arise. My features seeped in calmness I respond.

" With all due respect, Master Dwarf, you would be hard pressed to find anyone better. I trained with the finest archers in Mirkwood. Learned the art of medicine in Lothlorien. Wielded blades with the army of Rivendell and the Dunedian. I learned to ride in Rohan. Studied history in Gondor. I have traveled this world many times over! Been to it's darkest realms, fought bloody wars! Served as lone warrior of my charge for many a decade! For any man, dwarf, or elf who doubts my courage. I pray you turn to the Valor and realize what a grave mistake refusing my aid would be."

ARAGORN:

I was terrified when my dearest friend stepped forward into the waning light, every bit as regal as the kings of old. Hope had filled me when she accepted my decision, hope that she would go with me into the battle, into the darkness, as she always has. Leading me at times, protecting me always, whether I was in need of it or not.

Yet, as she speaks of her strengths and glory, I wish her to stay. Not because she is incapable, but because she  
is one of the greatest of her kind. A beacon of hope and strength to all. The countless times she has laid her life down willing, charged ahead of me into a flurry of blood and weapons, come crashing down on me. What if I fail to protect her as she has me? The thought is heavy on me. When my mind refocuses I see Adelaide, in all her glory, brave, strong, true to all that is good in this world despite what it has done to her. She is finished speaking, moving into the group, shaking hands, and finally beside me. Ready for battle. Never have I seen anything more indicative of the Valor.

EVERLIN:

There's a new weight in my mind as I finish, and the dwarf so openly defiant of me reaches to shake hands. Gandalf welcomes me into the fold,places me next to Aragorn, as we have always been going into battle. The Dunedian embraces me.

'I had hope our time together would not end here.'The message both terrifies me and warms me, but his smile reassures all. During this moment, three Hobbits have sprung up onto the pavilion and demanded entrance into the group. The stouter one is fiercely loyal to Frodo. His name is Sam, a gardener. The other two are very similar in appearance. Pippin I recognize from the previous night, the other must be Merry, he is taller and thinner. They come to crowd around me and Strider as they call him. Pippin embraces me.

"I'm so glad you're to come with now we'll stand a chance of smilin'." He grins and introduces me to the rest, who seem slightly afraid. Just like children. I bring my knee to meet the floor and shake their hands one by one.

"That was a mighty powerful piece of speaking you did there Miss.." Sam stumbles over this crucial piece of information. I smile and offer it up.

" Everlin. Everlin Freewood of Fangorn." They all nod in excitement commenting on the beauty of the name. Frodo wanders back to Gandalf's side. That new weight in my mind gives itself a voice as the Hobbits chatter around me.

'You handle yourself like the finest royalty. It shall be a pleasure to travel with you.'There's a mirth to the voice. It is only seconds later, as I am trying to deduce it's owner, that a sweep of blond hair pulls my eye to the chair beside me. It is Legolas, smiling at me with brilliant blue eyes.

"You should be more careful whom you open your mind to." He is laughing as it dawns on me. By leaving my mind wide to perceive Aragorn's thoughts, Legolas was able to delve into mine. I smile in return and pat his hand.

" We are now The Fellowship. You are welcome in my head Legolas Greenleaf , if I am welcome in yours." I am testing the channels as I speak and can feel him bend to my will.

'So it shall be,Everlin Freewood.' We exchange a last look of delight and I excuse myself to gather my things, and to ready a we set forth.


	4. Hope and Strength

EVERLIN:

"Ten companions ... so be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring." My dreams are haunted by Elrond's voice. I escape it only at dawn, my feet tangled in the fine woven sheets, my body slick with cold sweat. Such a rare occurrence for me. The anticipation of this alliance, of elves, dwarves, men, and hobbits has taken it's toll on my mind. I cannot coax myself back into sleep, so I rise with the dawn and begin my preparations.

After securing the last of my belongings into side packs and rolls, I dress myself in fawn colored leggings of soft suede and a green silk tunic, underneath which is a barrier of mithril link armor. I vouch for simplicity and pull my hair into one tight braid, flanked by the characteristic archer's braids. Belthronding is strapped to my back, a token of a long forgotten archer, alongside a full quiver of the finest fletched arrows. I should know, I made them myself. Gathering my packs, mostly full of medicines, clothing, and blankets, I pull the door from its frame and exit the fine room into the empty marble corridor. I can hear far off sounds of preparations, but as I have not been called upon I make my way to the stables to ready my steed.

I can't help but run my free hand along the grand architecture of Rivendell. Admiring the details and finer things Fangorn has been without. It's sad really, how much an elf can long for a proper window to gaze through in their loneliest moments. The enchanting cream light of a new day over the paddocks only serves to bring me more grief of my own home and charge.

These feelings are subdued though as I place my packs on the new hay and guide my hand to meet the nose of my new companion. He is a strong, swift, and elegant Andalucian stallion, dapple gray in color with a flowing mane and tail of liquid obsidian. His name is Alastor and the Valor must be looking down on me, for we already share a strong bond. He neither whinnies or stomps as I groom him or as I secure my saddle and pack. Alastor does not even have need to be led by my hand, he simply follows my lead through the stables and into the open air. Only as we head through the gates of Rivendell do I grasp his harness. And even then, it is for my own support, not his. Alastor's ears prick as we approach a gregarious group, picking up the eager words and goodbyes of The Fellowship.

'Am I really ready for this? I'm not so young as I used to be, and it's been so long since I've had need of a sword. What was I thinking, warrior or not, I'm the only female in a group of near strange men. That doesn't bode well at all.'

ARAGORN:

I watch Adelaide enter the clearing before the gates. She's nervous, her hands grasping for her horse. Still, she cuts a fine image. Knowledge and kindness thread through the air as she approaches.

'How are you feeling?' I know she prefers to speak to me in the privacy of our minds. Many journeys over the years have proven the use of such communication, and she was not the first or last I've met to prefer it. She shifts her vision from the gray stallion and replies halfheartedly.

'Well. Eager to set out.' There's no reason not to believe my friend, but I will keep an eye out anyways. It's in my nature to guard her as she does me. I go to speak to her mind again, only to find she has shut the channel. Confusion sweeps me. She knows better. I am pulled away by Arwen though, to make my final case and say our goodbyes.

EVERLIN:

Aragorn has always been so concerned for my well-being. Watchful of my behavior for a tell of something our early years I appreciated his actions. In this moment, they only serve to madden me. It is not his fault though. I have only ever wanted for him to see how strong my character is, how well trained a warrior I am, how caring I can be when some soul needs me. It becomes harder though, for in the midst of The Fellowship, surrounded by members of their community, all wishing them well and showering them with love before we set off knowing very well we may never return, I feel utterly alone. I am tempted to turn back into the light breaking over the city and run until the Far Plains.

It is not my first time alone at the daybreak of some great adventure though. In fact, I have stood in this courtyard countless times before, upon many different steeds, among many different companions. Decades I have spent traveling to some unknown end. Just as many of my friends did, before many one last grand journey to the Undying Lands. They became jaded with the heroism of man, and the Elvin alliance with them. I have retained admiration, grudgingly in some years, for the bravery of man. For Gondor and Rohan's ability to produce such similar men of valor through strong houses and bloodlines I fear have diminished. That is why I stay. The fear that I shall never set my eyes on the brave knights of mortality ride to their doom for the sake of wide open beauty and rich history.

LEGOLAS:

My Elvin kin are concerned that I volunteered so readily for this ominous task. They think the prince of Mirkwood has grown idle, that my royal duties do not satisfy me. Few of them know me as the disciplined solider. I have been so far from Mirkwood and my throne this past century, it is hard to find fault in their thinking. I do not expect them to understand my decision though. The Fellowship, as we are to be referred to as, accepts me and Aragorn knows of my bravery and skill in battle. That is enough for me.

I am standing in the midst of Mirkwood representatives, a messenger from my father wishing me well. My back is to Allora, a Palomino mare I bred myself. Even I, a born dignitary, tire of the advice and well wishes that engulf me in a flood rivaling the magic of Bruinen. My attention deviates from the task at hand. And what better to distract me than the opalescent elf making her way past Aragorn and toward the gates with a dapple gray horse. I ground tether Allora and start to move towards Everlin through the crowd. Most everyone has turned to chat with other representatives, but my father's messenger brings me to a halt.

"Sir, The king also said to keep a careful watch on an Adelaide?" He looks at me questioningly and I find myself unable to provide him with an answer. But as I redirect my path towards a preoccupied Everlin, I realize Adelaide is her second given name.

'Father.. If what she said two nights ago is to be believed, they share a strong bond.' I am still mulling over the matter when my feet bring me to Everlin's side. I touch her forearm lightly and greet her.

"Mára aurë, Everlin Freewood."

EVERLIN:

His footsteps are light, but I sensed his approach several yards ago. The splendid voice of Legolas greets my ears in Sindarin elvish. He speaks again as I tie the last leather throng through my soft medicine bag.

"Im gelir ceni ad lín." Having only known each other but a few days it seems strange to be so familiar, but I am grateful for it. I twist at the waist and present him with a bright smile.

"Let us save our language for when we need it's secrecy, my dear Prince." A quiet chuckle emerges from Legolas's throat. He returns my smile with one of brilliant cheer.

"That is a fine idea, my dear Princess." I find myself laughing this time. The rare day has come that I must fight for my realm ,and guide a Hobbit of utmost importance to the deepest of hells, and here two elves of gleaned royalty are laughing. It is a pure moment.

"Has no one come to bid you farewell or fair chance?" I am brought down to earth by the concerned voice of Legolas. He has noticed my lack of companionship. I almost regale him with the truth, that no one will come to see me off. But why ruin good spirits? I fear many days ahead are to be dark and without humor.

"What ever do you mean? A prince is here to see me off!" For a brief moment the crystalline laughs of us two, surely on their way to death, brighten the cove of delicate marble and wisteria. I relish the moment, ignoring the steady sound of hooves and voices crowding the gateway.

LEGOLAS:

She's still lost in our laughter. Everlin. Her thick lashes cling to creamy cheeks, peach blossom lips halfway parted in contentedness. I wish I could drink this sight in forever. Simply stand here and let her be happy, for I feel I may be to blame for her isolation and dread. No time to ponder our presumed past, for it is time to start on the future. Final goodbyes and embraces keep some of our party from mounting. Aragorn has donned Arwen's Evenstar and is trying to explain something to our Fellowship.

"No Horses! Didn't anyone tell you lot no horses?" He's shaking his head as he speaks over the disgruntled Boromir and the dwarf. I myself has wondered why we were taking horses, it's often faster to travel without them in such large groups after all. I take the packs from Allora's back on to my own and hand her to a stable hand. Everlin and I have been pushed closer as more council members arrive to see The Fellowship off and I can sense her movements as she also takes her horse's load. She pauses, throws her arms around the stallion's neck, and kisses his nose before shooing him towards Allora. Now would be a good time to test our channels.

'What is his name?' I cut my eyes toward her so she's certain of the voice's owner.

'Alastor.' She replies strong and clear to my thoughts. I doubt her voice could have served her as well. I can hear her sobs, though light, next to me. Unsure of her opinion of me, it is hard to take matter the desperate feeling swelling in my chest. The group is surging forward. Elrond had given his blessing and instruction as Everlin and I parted from our steeds, apparently. Aragorn leads us followed by a collection of hobbits, a wizard, a man, and a dwarf, to be brought up in the rear by myself and Everlin.

'Make sure Adelaide isn't the last one.' Aragorn has opened his mind to me. I find his concern for the Elvin princess reassuring.

'Of course.' I am on the brink of losing the connection when her voice rings sad, but clear, through both Aragorn and I's head.

'If you have want of me somewhere, all you need do is ask.' She seems shaken and hurt and Aragorn does not reply. Their trust in each other may be faltering. I fear Aragorn has asked to much of his dear Adelaide. That maybe this journey was not wholly her desire. I find myself staring at her in my contemplation and she soon falls back to walk with me.

"We'll be fine." She whispers, barely audible over the others. She says nothing to address my gaze, her eyes are still so cloudy red from tears. It's stunning to me. An elf of so many decades, older than myself, so strong yet so indicative of human emotion. I follow instinct and twine her fingers with my own for a few moments to lend her some of my own strength.

EVERLIN:

I appreciate his gesture. His strength certainly is reassuring, his fingers warm and steady between my own shaking ones. Legolas will make a good companion. The Fellowship is strong in it's diversity, and our footsteps are sure as we travel the countryside. Everything will be just fine. I've made this same journey at least once before, to the front door of Mordor. I know what I'm doing. I pull my thoughts back together as Legolas releases my hand. It is only then that I am overcome with fear.


End file.
